


Don't Give Up On Your Dreams

by LadyShadowphyre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allusions to past child abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, College | University Student Castiel (Supernatural), Ice Skater Sam Winchester, Ice Skating, M/M, Uriel is a good brother to Castiel, past Jessica Moore/Sam Wichester, past Sam Winchester/Tyson Brady, self-confidence issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: All Castiel Papadopolous ever wanted was to someday get good enough at ice skating to meet his inspiration, two-time US Olympic Team member and International Championship figure skater Sam Winchester on the ice. He never thought it would happen like this!(Art included.)
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore & Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	Don't Give Up On Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kj_graham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_graham/gifts).



> Written for KJ_Graham for the 2020 Sastiel Secret Santa exchange! Happy New Year!!

**T** HE NUMBER OF students staying behind at Stanford over Christmas break was never very high. In general, students were encouraged to go home to their families over the holidays, particularly in the younger years who were most likely to be dealing with their first major bouts of homesickness from being out on their own for the first time. As such, it wasn't necessarily well-known or encouraged for students to stay over, and the facilities that did remain open to serve those few remaining were more limited. Most of the dorms had closed for the break, leaving only one co-ed dorm on campus open for housing whoever remained in some kind of pseudo-scholastic semi-celebratory sleepover.

Nineteen-year-old freshman year student Castiel Papadopoulos appreciated the effort, even if his reasons for staying over break meant he was far less homesick than most of his year mates. For him, leaving halfway across the country to go to college had been a long-awaited relief accompanied by the intense desperation to find any excuse possible to never go home during any break ever. Under such circumstances, the various gatherings and outings and activities that the RAs for the building put together kept him from either getting bored or holing himself up in his assigned "stayover room" obsessively tracking the rankings of this year's Grand Prix contestants.

Not that doing so would change the rankings at all, now that all of the qualifying events were over, he knew, but maybe someone had uploaded new footage of one of the skaters' routines from the NHK, or a post-competition interview, or...

Castiel thunked his head back against the seat headrest, then had to try and smile a wordless "I'm okay, not crazy" at the girl next to him whose name he only remembered from the meet'n'greet as "Becky who likes Bon Jovi". From the look she shot him back, he rather doubted that he was fooling her anymore than he was fooling himself, but at least she turned back to the window instead of making him explain his momentary slip in the façade of a functional human being. That façade was harder to pull on this time than any other group outing to date, mostly because this time instead of a museum or beach or that one notable trip to the waterslide Castiel had almost passed on, this time they were heading for the ice rink with the promise of rental skates and a surprise guest to give anyone in the group who was interested a skating lesson.

It would not be the first time that Castiel had ever been on ice skates, but it would be the first time since he was in middle school. Ice skating had been his sport of choice when he was a kid, eschewing the physical contact of hockey for the more physically demanding figure skating. While his peers and siblings were putting up posters of rock stars or half-naked girls, Castiel's walls showcased the best of the Men's Singles figure skating circuit, in particular a rising star from Kansas named Sam Winchester. Sam was practically Castiel's role model, especially when he hit his growth spurt and his sudden surge up in height only made him come back even stronger.

Whether it was just bad timing or a sign from above that Castiel wasn't meant to follow Sam Winchester onto the ice, the same year Sam debuted as a Senior with his "Fighting the Demons" theme was the year Castiel's father had a mental break and ran off to "find himself", leaving Castiel and his brother Uriel in the care of their Aunt Naomi. Already openly disdainful of Castiel's figure skating, it had only taken one carelessly teasing comment from Uriel about Castiel's crush on "the boy with the demon program" for Aunt Naomi to put her foot down and forbid Castiel going near the ice again, including cancelling his lessons and selling his skates. She even forbid him from watching competitive skating, leading a deeply apologetic Uriel to start sneaking him recordings of the competitions and Sam's programs in particular. As hurt and angry as Castiel was to have his dreams so cruelly stomped on by his aunt, he was still grateful to Uriel for helping him at least live the dream vicariously. When Aunt Naomi signed him up for football against his wishes and he twisted his knee badly enough to require surgery, Castiel figured his dreams of one day skating on the same ice as Sam Winchester were finished for good. If not for Uriel pulling off what seemed like a miracle to get him a _signed_ poster from that very season, Castiel might well have give up and resigned himself to only ever following the talented skater in the news instead.

And, okay, his decision to apply to Stanford had been influenced by the fact that Sam had attended Stanford himself in between skating and graduated with a degree in history. He'd applied to several other universities, including Notre Dame like Aunt Naomi had insisted. The fact that Notre Dame had rejected his application while Stanford had offered him a scholarship was definitely something he declared a sign from above that he should get the hell away from _her_. Luckily for him, Aunt Naomi couldn't do anything about the fact that he wasn't accepted to Notre Dame and Charles Papadopoulos had made sure the trust funds for his sons' education were not something to which Aunt Naomi could forbid them access, so Castiel went to Stanford and Uriel went to Julliard, and now Castiel was sitting in one of two vans taking him and the rest of the stayover students to the ice rink for his first chance to get on the ice in years.

His left leg twinged phantom discomfort from the old injury, either from nerves or cold; he wasn't sure which, just that the injury itself was long healed. Too much time had elapsed for him to be able to pull off any of his former jumps and spins, but he could at least be reasonably certain that he wouldn't embarrass himself like an idiot in front of his fellow students and temporary dorm mates. Still, he forced his hands to remain in the pockets of his jacket rather than reach down to rub through his jeans at the surgical scars around his knee, faint though they were. He felt unaccountably exposed already after having drawn Becky's attention, and no good would come from inviting further attention from her or anyone else.

Not right now, anyway.

The van slowed and turned into a parking lot, rousing its occupants to greater levels of alertness and attention to their surroundings. Beside him, Becky leaned forward to tap Zach-who-likes-Zeppelin on the shoulder, causing the other young man to startle up from his dozing. Castiel shoved aside the flicker of envy at that ability to drift off in a moving vehicle surrounded by people and reached down to grab his backpack from where he'd stowed it on the floor between his feet, listening with half an ear to their van's RA chaperone - Luis-who-likes-Ludacris - give them a quick review of the same rules they had gone over in the parking lot of Stanford before they left. No doubt the other RA, Jess-who-likes-Janet-Jackson, was giving the same review to the group in the van behind them as they came to a stop in one of the available parking spaces and the ignition was killed.

The two groups filed out of their respective vans and milled together as Jess and Luis led them into the public ice rink. Castiel hung towards the back, eyeing the stretch of parking lot that was surprisingly empty for the time of day and the day in question. Had the rink been rented out just for their group? How had the RAs been able to afford that? It wasn't like the overstayers were a fraternity or sorority that had a bank account they spent the year raising money to fill for things like this, after all!

Castiel's contemplation of how this trip was being paid for abruptly went sideways as they moved far enough into the rink for the music being piped over the loudspeakers around the ice to reach his ears. It wasn't exactly unusual to hear Led Zeppelin make the rotation of various public area PA system playlists, but the distinctive driving beat and guitar riffs of "The Immigrant Song" still sent Castiel's brain careening straight back to Sam Winchester. His program this year had definitely been more on the playful than the serious side, and his exhibition skate had taken the thunder and lightning theme and gone full on Thor, God of Thunder, complete with a replica Mjolnir that he used to great effect in a routine of spins and flips that easily made Castiel believe he could fly and fight off hordes of monsters.

"Cas!"

Castiel jolted to attention, causing a smattering of titters from his classmates. He flinched and looked at Jess, trying to figure out why his name had been called. The considering look on the RA's face set the hairs on the back of his neck vibrating, but it vanished again as she repeated, "Shoe size, for the skates?"

"Ten and three-quarters inches, narrow," he answered without thinking, then felt his cheeks warm as the considering look returned.

"Women's skates okay?" the older woman behind the desk asked. "We have plenty of skates in that size, but if you need 'em narrow then the women's skates'll do you better than the men's."

Which Castiel knew, because he'd looked into it after his final growth spurt hit and his foot size settled enough to warrant maybe saving up to get a pair of skates for himself again, but it had somehow slipped his mind when answering. Still, he sighed softly under his breath, it's not like there was an appreciable difference besides women's skates being mostly white instead of black. He shrugged, trying not to show his discomfort over the attention, and accepted the skates - white, as expected - when they were handed over before letting himself be shuffled along towards the rinkside.

Being towards the back of the group as he was, it took a bit for him to get through the doors and into the open arena of the rink. The sound of the music immediately became magnified, bouncing around the whole arena and stealing his focus for long enough that it took the gasps and exclamations of surprise and approval from the ones further to the front for Castiel to recognize the familiar shrilling clashes of skates on ice hitting at all too familiar points in time with the music. Then the other students moved to spread along the side of the rink, giving Castiel his first unobstructed view of the ice, and his borrowed skates nearly slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers as he stared.

Chestnut brown hair flashing with gold highlights under the rink's halogen bulbs pulled back in a half-tail away from high cheekbones, eyebrows drawn and jaw set in concentration that Castiel had no hope of truly seeing from this distance but could so easily picture from every close-up the cameras given him and thousands more thirsty fans. The mock-armor was gone, traded for a grey Henley and black pants that might have been painted on for as much as they were showing off the flex and stretch of his muscles, the silver of his skates and the whirling replica Mjolnir glinting cheeky challenge as Sam Winchester himself ran through his current exhibition skate for an audience of stayover college students and one utterly starstruck fanboy.

 _I am not going to survive this,_ Castiel thought in wild dismay, then flinched hard as someone next to his elbow laughed.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise he only bites if you ask him to?" Jess murmured near his ear. She laughed again at the snap of Castiel's very wide eyes in her direction. "So I'm guessing that poster you have of Sammy over there is more than just an obscure-target crush?"

"Good taste either way," one of the others - Castiel thought it was Max-who-likes-Metallica - whistled. "If you told me he really was a god, I'd fall to my knees in worship right here."

Castiel might have disagreed - rented out or not, they were still in a public venue, and even without the salacious undertones in Max's words, as much as he looked up to Sam, he didn't see him as some kind of idol to worship - but right at that moment the concluding thunder crash rolled across the rink and Sam struck the final pose of bringing the hammer down to the ice with a shouted battle cry. The assembled students burst into cheers and whoops and applause, and Castiel fumbled to join them without dropping his skates, mouth suddenly very dry even as he watched Sam startle and straighten up, rubbing the back of his head with an endearingly awkward grin before bowing playfully and skating over towards the gathered students. Okay, Castiel thought faintly as Sam reached the side of the rink scarcely five feet away from where he was standing, worship might actually be on the table.

He was _not_ going to survive this day.

**T** HERE WAS ONCE a time in Sam Winchester's life when he had feared that he would be forever pulled in two directions, forced to choose between his love of learning and his love for the ice. Neither one had been a desire his father had understood, not really, but the ice was the only one John Winchester had tried to understand and support Sam in out of respect for his mother's memory. Bittersweet as the reason was, it meant that skating was the only thing for which Sam could count on having his only living family's full support. Dean had done his best to help Sam bridge the gap between academics and athletics, and Sam credited his brother with having helped him keep his grades up enough that he could even get into Stanford on his own merit and not just rely on the scholarships that being one of the United States top figure skaters brought him.

Stanford had been eye-opening in many ways, some good and some not so good. For one, it had driven home the idea that, if he wanted to keep the ice, then the ice still had to come first even before his classes, school friends... relationships. His freshman year boyfriend Tyson Brady hadn't been able to handle the strain when Sam had to be at the rink or halfway across the world for a competition and Brady couldn't go with him. To Brady's credit, the man had stuck it out for as long as he could, but when sophomore year rolled around and Sam headed off to the NHK while Brady went home for Thanksgiving dinner they had both known that when they met up again afterwards their relationship was over.

Introducing Sam to Jess had not deliberately been Brady's attempt to apologize for not being "enough" for Sam - Brady's words, not Sam's - but there was no denying that Jess had made much more of an effort to support Sam during competitions and even during training, getting her own pair of skates and joining him and his rinkmates for warm ups, quizzing him on the material for their upcoming tests during off-ice conditioning, and even helping him choose his theme and music his senior year at Stanford. It was the same year that Sam drew the NHK again, and Jess had gone with him to Japan which might well have saved her life when their apartment burned down just before they were due back.

Ultimately, he and Jess hadn't worked out either, though Jess had waited until the end of the season to broach the subject and they had managed to remain friends more easily than the hurt and jagged edges between him and Brady had allowed. Jess had been the one to suggest that he try looking for a fellow skater or, as she put it, "Someone who can follow you and your heart onto the ice more than I can." That had resulted in a rather disastrous but thankfully short-lived fling with a pairs skater named Ruby who'd tried to frame him for doping. Lucky for Sam, his coach was infamous for hating the dopers and they'd gotten Sam cleared of the charges before it hit the news so the only ones looking bad were Ruby and her skating partner Lilith and their cohorts, but it had put Sam off dating for a while.

Not that his reticence stopped Dean and Jess from trying to get him back out there on the dating scene as well as the ice. Dean mostly stuck to random text messages suggesting strip clubs or pointed statements about Sam getting laid. Jess organized skating events near Stanford during breaks or between competitions that she could entice Sam to visit for and introduce him to new people. She never pushed him to do more than meet them, and it was a good chance for Sam to catch up with his friends who were still working their way through their degrees after he'd graduated, so he let her gently bully him into booking the rink near campus and then crash his "practice time" with whatever group of students she'd gathered who might be interested in learning to skate.

The burst of applause and hooting cheers that greeted the climax of his third rehearsal of his exhibition skate was startling but not entirely unexpected. Sure enough, Luis was on one end of the group clustered around the wall with Zach and Becky leading the majority of the hollering. A moment later he spotted a smirking Jess on the other end standing next to a brunette with incredibly vivid blue eyes and a vaguely panicked, shell-shocked expression. Potentially interesting, and less expectation-charged than the guy next to him who was giving Sam a look full of invitation and so much heat it was a wonder the ice wasn't melting.

"Hello, familiar and new faces," he greeted the assembled students as he got within comfortable conversation range. "Not sure how much your lovely RAs have told you--" He looked from Luis to Jess, getting twin angelic smiles as Zach and Becky snickered. "--but my name is Sam Winchester and I am only barely qualified to be teaching any of you anything about how to skate."

Becky and Zach graduated to full laughter which Luis and Jess joined in. A few of the other students laughed uncertainly, as if they weren't sure what the joke actually was but didn't want to be left out. A couple even looked concerned. Blue-eyes was the only one who seemed more disbelieving than anything else, which only made him more interesting.

 _Slowly,_ Sam cautioned himself. Just because he was standing next to Jess didn't mean she was gunning for him to meet Blue-eyes specifically, and there were seven other new faces in the group to share his attention for the duration of the lesson time.

"Alright, show of hands, who here has skated before?" he asked, mentally shaking off the thought. About half of the new people raised their hands, including a tentative hand raise from Blue-eyes. "Skated within the last couple of years?" Three hands went down, again including Blue-eyes with a wince. Trying not to wonder what that was about, Sam went on, "Okay then, everyone have skates? Get them on and get on the ice. Those of you who answered yes to both questions can do a couple laps around the rink at your own pace to get warmed up while those of you who have never skated can join me to go over the basics before we start anything more complicated. If you skated before but not recently, join whichever group you feel most comfortable in. I'm gonna go put Mjolnir here away and be right back."

**C** ASTIEL WATCHED SAM Winchester skate away with a strange feeling of disconnect from reality. Had that really happened? Had Sam Winchester really just looked right at him? Deliberately and not just as part of looking at the group as a whole? The idea felt too surreal to contemplate, even as he stumbled his way over to a bench and began fumbling his way through untying his sneakers.

"So, uh, not to be a rube, but why did we all laugh when our teacher said he's barely qualified to teach us?" asked a boy Castiel was pretty sure was Andy-who-likes-ABBA but might have been Ansem-who-likes-Alice-Cooper.

"Dude, do you not know who that is?" Zach asked, the incredulity obvious despite Castiel's focus on exchanging sneakers for skates.

"Sam Winchester, obviously," and yeah, _that_ was Ansem; Andy didn't have that talent of making any innocuous statement sound like a condescending insult. "He introduced himself to us two minutes ago."

"He's the United States current lead in men's singles figure skating and two times silver medalist at Worlds," Castiel found himself saying, shoulders hunching when he felt the sudden shift of attention towards him. Sure enough, when he glanced up, everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of surprise. Jess, on the other hand, looked satisfied, as if his unintentional outburst had answered a question he hadn't been aware of her asking.

"Wait, if he's that good, why is he barely qualified?" Lily-who-likes-Lonely-Island asked. She was looking at Castiel, but it was Luis who answered.

"Just because you're good at something doesn't mean you know how to teach others," he explained, allowing Castiel to relax as the attention shifted away from him again. "And when you're as good as Sam is, winning competitions and being on the US Olympics figure skating team, teaching the basics of skating to a group of bored college students might seem kinda like asking Michael Jordan to come teach netball to grade schoolers."

"Be nice, Luis," Jess snorted. "We're more like a rec center lock-in who rate a celebrity guest teacher because he's an alumnus and still loves the members of his old study group."

"Still loves _one_ of us, anyway," Luis teased, causing Zach and Becky to burst out laughing again while Jess rolled her eyes.

And suddenly, Castiel was reminded sharply of an article he had skimmed over three years ago about a fire burning down the apartment Sam Winchester lived in with his then-girlfriend while the couple had been in Japan for Sam's competition at the NHK. The photo had been black and white and the girlfriend's face turned away, but suddenly Castiel could all too easily fill in Jess's face and golden blonde hair color to the pale curls resting against Sam's shoulder. _Oh,_ he thought with a knot forming in his throat as he watched Jess cast a fond glance over towards the ice. He quickly dropped his eyes back to his skates before she could notice him staring.

"And because we had him right there with us at Stanford for the three-and-a-half years he was getting his degree, it didn't take much to start up this little tradition of us stayover students crashing one of his practice days," Luis was saying as Castiel stuffed his sneakers roughly into his backpack. "See why we have the rule about not posting any of this on social media? We get to keep doing this because we treat Sam with the respect due one of our best friends and not like paparazzi bait."

"It's cute how you think the paparazzi would be that interested in me," Sam's dry baritone spoke up. Castiel flinched and tried not to fumble with the laces on his skates too obviously, ruthlessly ignoring the churning in his stomach when Sam added, "Jess, you got a minute?"

"Always for you, skater boy," Jess sassed as she stood up, already in her skates despite having been an active participant in the conversation the whole time. Signs of having been skating recently and often, Castiel realized with a sinking feeling that he couldn't shake off, even with his brain frantically throwing up half-remembered memory fragments of the rumors that had circulated briefly about Sam having been dating pairs skater Ruby Salt around the time the woman and her partner had been caught using steroids along with several other skaters from Canada and Russia. Rumors meant nothing, especially not in the face of the obvious level of comfort and affection between Sam and Jess still.

Stifling a sigh, Castiel shoved his backpack under the bench and got up to get out on the ice, his earlier half-formed thought of hanging back with the complete beginners forgotten in the wake of his sudden need to get away from everyone and just breathe for a minute. If that meant skating a lap or three around the rink even if he ended up on his arse like a moron instead of taking it slow and lingering near Sam as much as he would be allowed, well... so be it.

It was long past time he got reacquainted with his old home anyway.

**S** O WHO'VE YOU got in mind to try and set me up with this time?" Sam asked when he and Jess were far enough away from the group not to be easily overheard.

"Two potentials," Jess answered, not even trying to deny or dissemble over the motive. "Max Banes and Castiel Papadopoulos both have previous skating experience and they both had the _look_ watching you earlier, but I think Castiel might be a fan of you specifically."

"Why me specifically?" Sam asked, trying not to sound too skeptical. He was hardly the best skater out there internationally even if he'd been having a great run here in the US.

"He has a signed poster in a frame," Jess answered, lowering her voice in confidence. "Personalized, too, and it's old because you look about twelve and you're wearing this really glittery black and red costume that looks like a firebird or something."

"Demon," Sam corrected absently, his mind spinning. "And I was sixteen. That was the year I made my senior debut."

And he remembered, now that Jess had jogged his memory, sitting at the autograph table and listening to a boy with pained eyes explaining that his little brother was a huge skating fan who wanted to go professional but was being forced to stop skating and could Sam please write something encouraging for him? The best he'd been able to come up with was "For Castiel-- Don't give up on your dreams!" followed by his name, but the boy getting the poster signed had seemed satisfied. Recalling the wince that had accompanied the lowering hand when he'd asked who had skated recently, Sam wondered if he should have wracked his brain for something else to write.

"It clearly means a lot to him if he framed it and brought it with him to college," Jess pointed out, nudging his shoulder with hers. "That's about all I can tell you on Castiel, though, since I only met him when he moved to my dorm with the other stayovers. Max has been in the same dorm as Luis, so I know more about him and his twin sister Alicia."

"And you're telling me about Max but not Alicia?" Sam teased.

"Unless you want to try getting together with her _and_ her girlfriend, I figured Max would be a bit more your speed," Jess snorted, then paused. "Maybe a little faster than you usually go, actually. I think he might want to drag you off to the bathrooms for a quickie or something."

"Pass," Sam grimaced. Quickies in the bathroom were more his brother's speed if Dean was ever going to admit to being into guys even a little bit, and he could definitely see Dean pointing Sam in Max's direction.

"I figured you'd say that, but never let Dean say I didn't give you the option," Jess answered, reading his mind. "Also pretty sure if you put on the brakes Max'll respect that, so don't count him out just because you're daydreaming about Castiel's pretty blue eyes."

"Ugh, you're like Dean with boobs sometimes, why do I put up with you again?" Sam mock-complained.

"Because you'd crash and burn without me, skater boy," Jess smirked back. "Race you back!"

"Get back here!" Sam shouted and took off after his laughing ex-turned-best-friend. As they approached the group of waiting newbies, which Sam noticed with a tiny flare of disappointment didn't include Castiel, he reluctantly put all thoughts of potential dating - or anything else - to the back burner so he could focus on putting his finely honed rudimentary teaching skills to use.

**I** T WOULD BE quite poetic to say that getting onto the ice felt wholly natural as if he had never left it. It would also be complete bullshit. Castiel's first steps back onto the ice left him feeling as wobbly as a newborn colt on freshly waxed linoleum, and he found himself clinging to the wall as he fought to steady himself and make his legs remember how they were supposed to move on ice.

"You okay, man?" Max murmured near where Castiel was pulling himself upright from a near-fall. A hand entered Castiel's line of sight and, after a brief moment of contemplating something spiteful, Castiel accepted the offered assistance.

"I'm not going to survive this," he muttered as Max pulled him upright and gently led him away from the wall. "I'm either going to kill myself trying to pretend I can still remember how to skate, or I'm going to fall on my face and have to crawl into a hole to die from mortification."

"Come on, it won't be that bad," Max cajoled him as he released his hand. "How long's it been since you skated?"

"Seven years," Castiel said miserably. "Seven horrible years and a knee surgery I shouldn't have needed if my aunt hadn't signed me up for football after making me quit skating." He sighed. "This is not how I wanted to fulfill that dream...."

"What dream?" Castiel shot Max a look and the other man held up his hands. "No judgement, man, just curious. I'm guessing it has something to do with our super-hot guest instructor?"

"Just a bit," Castiel snorted, then sighed again, turning around so he could face Max while they talked. "Sam Winchester was - is, really - kind of my inspiration. I used to have this dream of getting good enough at skating to one day follow him onto the international competition circuit, even though I started learning late. My coach was even getting me ready to compete in Juniors at Nationals the year Sam debuted in Seniors."

"So what happened?" Max frowned. "Sounds like you were on track to make it just fine."

"My aunt overheard my brother teasing me about my 'crush' on 'the boy with the demons program' and threw an epic homophobic fit," Castiel grimaces, shifting into the turn as the rink curved, Max following him easily. "Made me quit skating, sold my skates, destroyed whatever skating memorabilia I had, and forbid me to even watch the competitions on television."

"Harsh, dude," Max winced. The laugh that escaped Castiel at that understatement was similarly harsh.

"'Harsh'," he repeated, voice just a little hollow. "She ripped the foundation of my life out from under me and berated me for being upset about it. I almost went crazy. If my brother hadn't gone behind her back to help me stay even tangentially connected with skating...." He shook his head. He didn't like to think about how low he had gotten during those initial weeks after Aunt Naomi's ban had been enacted, before Uriel had snuck away from spending the weekend at a friend's house to go to Skate America and get him the poster signed by Sam Winchester himself. "And now I'm probably going to make a total idiot of myself in front of him because after seven years of nothing I can barely skate a straight line!"

"You're kidding, right?" Max asked, then glanced over at Alicia-who-likes-Aerosmith who Castiel vaguely remembered was Max's twin; he felt his cheeks heat as he realized that he didn't even know when she'd skated up to join them. "He's kidding, right? Please tell me he's kidding!"

"Maybe he's just been too distracted to realize he's skated a full lap around the rink with us already?" Alicia raised her eyebrows. "Most of it while skating backwards, by the way."

Castiel blinked at her, head tilted to one side as he tried to comprehend what she was telling him, then glanced around them in a daze. Sure enough, they were still moving and almost back at the gate they had entered through, a few feet away from where Sam and Jess were going over the basics of skating with their much less experienced classmates.

"Don't count yourself out for survival just yet, man," Max chuckled, clapping Castiel on the shoulder and making him wobble before his weight shifted automatically to compensate and steady himself. "C'mon, let's go another lap!"

He took off, skating past Castiel with Alicia laughing at his heels. Bemused, and just a little more confident than before, Castiel followed. Maybe this wouldn't be a complete disaster of epic embarrassment after all.

**T** EACHING WOULD NEVER be a vocation for Sam, not like it was for Luis. Even Jess was a more naturally patient teacher than he was, though part of Sam wondered if it was just because she was rarely called upon to do it and so could store up the required patience like a dragon with a hoard. But Sam? He could fake patience most of the time through mindfulness, but he did not have an abundance with which to gently but firmly deal out the hard truths that no, he was not going to be able to turn complete novice adults into competition-ready skaters in one two-hour practice session.

Fortunately for him - and for the rest of the class - only the boy Jess said was called Ansem seemed to have the opinion that Sam should be doing just that, and his brother Andy appeared to be capable of keeping him and his attitude in check, allowing Sam to focus more on imparting the little tips of wisdom he'd picked up for keeping steady on the ice.

"Don't overthink it," he advised every time. "You trust your balance walking; the ice isn't that much different, just a little more slippery. Push and glide, keep your upper body loose and relax your knees. That's it, good work!"

Most of the more experienced students had drifted over to watch or help their classmates by the time Sam felt he'd managed to teach as much of the basics as they were going to learn, so Jess gave a sharp whistle and sent everyone off to do some laps and practice what they learned. "Advanced skaters who want to can stick around and learn a jump or two, or go do whatever you want so long as the rules for both the trip and the rink are obeyed!"

A few people wandered off, but most of the group stayed, including both Max Banes and Castiel Papadopolous. Jess and Luis held a quick rock-paper-scissors match that led to Jess leaving to go keep an eye on the offshoot group under the guise of taking a break while Luis stayed with Sam ostensibly to to assist with the lesson on jumps but mostly to keep a lid on any potentially brewing trouble. Sam hoped there wouldn't be any, but since Ansem had insisted on staying for the jumps while Andy had opted to go take a break, he wasn't feeling too optimistic.

Sure enough, trouble began when Ansem took his turn attempting the single-rotation toe-loop Sam had been teaching and overbalanced coming out of it, falling to the ice.

"It's alright," Sam reassured the others as Luis skated over to help Ansem up. "Falling happens to everyone at some point, especially when you're just starting out learning."

"When was the last time _you_ fell?" One of the girls, a brunette named Ava, asked with a disbelieving arch to her eyebrow.

"About twenty minutes before you all arrived at the rink," Sam admitted. It had been more of a stumble and skid than a true fall, but it still felt embarrassing for having done it on an easy jump-spin combo he'd been doing for months.

"Bet it wasn't while doing, what did you call this? The 'easiest jump you can learn'?" Ava snorted, startling Sam with the amount of sarcasm in her tone. Up until now she'd been one of the better-mannered students.

"Perhaps he's simply spent so much time on the ice that he's forgotten how to speak to people whose brains haven't frozen over," Ansem drawled as he skated up, favoring his left side with Luis bringing up the rear and frowning. "Maybe that's why his teaching ability is so lacking."

"His teaching ability is fine, provided the student is actually willing to listen," came the unexpected rejoinder from Castiel.

"And maybe doesn't set unrealistic expectations then blame the teacher for their own lack of talent," Max added dryly.

"I noticed neither of you have bothered trying it," Ansem blustered, cheeks going pink as he scowled at the pair. "If you're so convinced he can actually teach, why don't you show us all what you learned?"

"Fine by me," Max said, shrugging easily. "Cas?"

"After you," Castiel answered, gesturing Max forward. Sam wondered if he was imagining the sudden flicker of nerves across those incredible blue eyes.

"Should I be trying to stop this?" he wondered to Luis in an undertone. As much as he appreciated the defense, Ansem was hardly his worst ever critic, after all, and Sam _had_ just been lamenting his lack of affinity for teaching.

"Nah, man, just enjoy the show," Luis murmured back with a grin as they watched Max begin his approach, skating backwards until he hit a comfortable place and pushed off. Slightly over-rotated for a single and a bit bobbled on the landing, Sam noticed, but it was still a decent showing for a first attempt.

"You're up!" Max called back as he turned around to skate back.

Sam dutifully turned his attention to Castiel, bypassing Ansem's irritated scowl, and blinked as he noticed that Castiel had skated further away from them and was just beginning a longer approach. He built up speed, more than a single jump really needed, and then turned to skate backwards into the jump and--

It wasn't a single. It wasn't even a double. The jump Castiel launched himself into was nearly strong enough to give him a full _three_ rotations before he landed on the opposite foot, turning the intended toe-loop into an almost beautifully executed triple Salchow.

 _A boy with dreams of skating,_ his heart whispered as the rink rang with whoops and cheers as Castiel turned out of the landing and began to skate back to the group. _A boy forced to give up his dream but is still so clearly in love with the ice that it welcomes him back._

_"You need to find someone who can follow you and your heart onto the ice."_

"I'm sorry," Castiel blurted out when he was about ten feet away, starting Sam out of his dazed thoughts. "I know you were teaching us a toe loop, but I didn't think my knee was up to the landing so I switched...."

"...to a triple Salchow," Sam finished as Castiel trailed off, cheeks flushed. He nudged Luis to go take over the class while he skated over to meet Castiel further from the group. "Not sure how that's a credit to my teaching, but it was very well done overall."

The flush on Castiel's cheeks deepened as he ducked his head. "I... you've been an inspiration to me for over a decade now, even after I had to stop skating... Everything I know about skating, I learned because of you." His voice was dropping slowly lower, and Sam silently skated closer to catch it when Castiel added, "You probably don't remember... you signed a poster for my brother to me..."

"I remember, Castiel," Sam murmured, smiling gently when Castiel's head shot up, eyes wide. "I told you not to give up on your dreams."

"I didn't," Castiel whispered, blue eyes locked on Sam's, practically pulling him in with earnestness. "Even when I thought I'd have to run away from home to get back on the ice, I never gave up on one day being able to skate... with you...." He swallowed. "Even just being able to skate on the same ice... it's all I ever wanted."

"I'm honored," Sam hesitated, torn, then mentally kicked himself for the hesitation. "Did you ever do any practice with pairs skating or ice dancing?"

"Uh," Castiel blinked, then shook his head and blinked again. "A little, when one of my rinkmates was looking for a partner and thought I would match her."

"Well then," Sam grinned and held out his hand. "How about we see if you remember more of skating than just a few jumps, hm?"

"I--" Castiel broke off and swallowed, looking between Sam's outstretched hand and his face, hope and longing and disbelief chasing their way across his expression. "It's been seven years since I've skated!"

"And after seven years you just did a triple Salchow," Sam reminded him, flexing his hand and trying not to feel like an idiot holding his hand out in the empty air. "Come skate with me Castiel?"

"Okay," Castiel whispered. Tentatively, he placed his hand in Sam's and together they skated out to the middle of the rink, side by side.

**=End=**


End file.
